Chapter Three — A Question of Morals
To be deceitful is a sin, but it cannot be classified as such if done only for the good of those in need.

In the village, we had been mostly sheltered from the vicious winds which howled above. At the bottom of the Abysmal Abyss, hundreds of metres below sea level, the air was in fact rather still. With the west-facing entrance to the abyss blocked off long before even the Great War by a massive rock slide, very little of anything was capable of getting in.

I frowned at the thought, watching my guards with narrowed eyes all the while. How had the ponies gotten into the village? How had they found us, to begin with?

I let out a breath and hung my head, letting it then fall down onto my hooves. One of the stallions flicked an ear at this and, fittingly, cracked his tail loudly at me. Chained tightly as I was, I could hardly move to avoid his attack; the sheer force made me yelp, but he only chuckled darkly.

Our prison was bleak, to say the least. Unlike the village, where the wind had been scarce and gentle, it blew through every nook and cranny in this place and stole every ounce of body heat I may have had. With Thorn tied tightly to the opposite wall to me—he, at least, was lucky that his chain collar didn’t cut into his throat as mine did—we could not even cuddle up to conserve what little warmth we had.

But we didn’t have to worry about that for long, I realised bitterly, for the guards had parted and in their place the boss pony, still covered with his salvaged armour, stood tall. His eyes, it transpired on closer inspection, had not merely flashed yellow earlier; they were, in fact, entirely coloured. Tattooed to look even more evil than before.

“Well, ‘ello there you two,” he snarled, stepping closer. I could smell his breath almost instantly, but fought to sit tall—or as tall as my chains allowed—anyway. “How’s ya likin’ our little bit o’ Equestria, eh?”

I did not say a word. Zay-Oos merely grunted.

“Eh, be tha’ way. You’ll be screamin’ soon enough, little pony, so Ah spose there’s no point for ya to be wastin’ ya breath now.” He laughed and then stepped closer, clucking his tongue when I snapped my teeth together in an attempt to bite his fore leg. He then leaned closer—he really did have fangs—and reached behind me with his horn lit up. A moment later, my chains fell free and I sighed, only to have the breath forced from my lungs a moment later when he forcibly yanked the ‘leash’ into the air. I gasped and reared up, struggling to find some air and to release the binds. After a few agonisingly long seconds, he then loosened it just enough so that I could breath once again—but only barely.

“Oh, ya look so alluring when ya’s gaggin’ like tha’,” he grunted, his muzzle opened in an enthusiastic grin. He then leaned closer once again and nuzzled my side gently before he bit down hard, making blood bead on my skin and me cry out in pain. He only laughed more. Behind him, through pain-blurred vision, I could see the two guards standing stiffly; an unwanted glance to just underneath their belly made me balk and whimper, suddenly barely able to stand tall as I had done before. “Wha’s wrong, little pony?” Zay-Oos whispered now, his breath purely noxious. “Ya’d better be gettin’ used ta tha’ sorta thing round ‘ere. A good mare must do ‘er job an’ all, don’t ya think?”

I blubbered quietly and Zay-Oos’ grin only widened. He then dragged me roughly to his side, snagging Thorn’s collar with his magic and jerking him over as well. He then stepped outside, heaving us along behind him despite our injuries. I yelped and winced with each step and limped quite evidently; that didn’t stop the horrid ponies from hauling rocks and pebbles in our direction, no sympathy from any of them. Shouts followed us as we reluctantly followed Zay-Oos, but I fought not to listen to them. It was the most defiant thing I could manage right now.

The psycho town’s streets were far from nice. The roughly scattered grit bit at my unshod hooves—there hadn’t been any point in wearing horseshoes back in my village—and where the tracks weren’t covered the mud was so claggy that, walking on my injured hooves as I was, it was almost impassable. Not getting an infection… That seemed an impossibility at this point.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next, though. As Zay-Oos dragged us further, both Thorn and I struggling behind him like weary pack mules, we soon found ourselves at the entrance to some new shack. It was larger than the others and, oddly, it looked much more secure and sturdy as well. The metal walls were reinforced with wooden planks and there was hardly a single hole at all. The roof was held down very tightly and the individual sheets had been stretched and welded together to make one thick, leak-proof barrier. The door itself, though only another sheet of tin, was held in place by a massive rock. It took a good, strong buck from an earth pony guard to move it enough to open the door, its hinges rusted but at least still functional.

And then we went inside, and any hopes I may have so foolishly harboured that these ponies were just putting on an intimidating show, that they would accept us and give us some nice house out in this hellhole of a land, went up in flames.

The immense, overpowering smell was the first thing that hit me when I stepped hoof unwillingly into the room. The thick, metallic stench of blood and the sour, acrid stink of old sweat were the first things that reached my muzzle, making me gag and fight to scarper backwards. But my efforts were to no avail, of course; Zay-Oos only snorted and tightened his grip on my chains. Then, with a strong jerk, he threw me forwards into the middle of the room. It was at that moment that one more thing reached my burned nostrils: the caustic, ammoniated smell of concentrated urine and a putrid combination of barely-sweet, fishy and outright foul—not a healthy smell at all—that I knew could only be one thing.

I really didn’t want to think on it.

But that was not such an easy thing to ignore. Thorn, at my side now, shook on his short legs; I could hardly stand straight either. So much so that, when heavy hooves struck our flanks, we were both sent careening into the nearby wall with such a lack of control that the impact should have pulled the flimsy shack apart. But its strength was sadly proven at that moment, a fact which made Zay-Oos chuckle.

“She’s a good’un, eh?” he grunted before he stepped closer. Once more he grabbed our chains with his magic and hoisted them behind our heads; I gasped for breath, choked, until he snagged the link on a rusting barb and finally let us breathe once more.

Was he so intent on killing us?

“Ya stay there, ya cunts,” he hissed in our ears, his sharpened hooves slashing at my cheek. It was enough, just about, to draw blood. His unnerving yellow eyes then began to shine, but that glee only made me squirm and scamper as far back as I could. He did not try to stop me, though; rather, he snapped his head around and let his eyes land on the opposite corner of the room. For a moment, I was perplexed—and then a whimper and a sniffle sounded when the stallion’s vomit-coloured aura wrapped around a jet black clump of tail. A small mare, whose light purple fur was completely discoloured by splashes of off-white spunk and old blood—oh, Celestia—then lay there trembling, her massive gold eyes the size of pinpricks as she watched Zay-Oos lick his fangs slowly, slowly. He then stepped closer to her, smirking; her screams and pleas echoed loudly around the room, and he hadn't even done anything yet.

That poor mare… I whimpered at the sight. It was horrid in itself, of course, seeing a defenceless mare like this, but even worse was her resemblance to Ochre, to my best friend.

My mind flashed back to her lifeless corpse, hauled away to be butchered by one of these ponies. It was enough to make me gag alone—but when Zay-Oos’ plans for the mare became even clearer, I found myself shaking and crying in my own corner.

I wasn't even as beaten up as that poor mare, let alone anything else.

But I could not look away. I wanted to do so desperately, I really did, but the guards had caught onto my attempts. It had not even taken much to force me to watch the horrific scene which was playing out before me; a magical aura tugged at my ear painfully, and the gun pressed to my temple was enough to ensure my adherence.

It was awful. The poor mare’s screams did not cease once. Rather, they only increased in volume as time heaved itself by. Pulled to her feet, she wobbled visibly where she stood; her frantically darting eyes and heaving chest only became more apparent when the boss shoved a spike, freshly sharpened, under her stomach. He then walked to her front, his eyes narrowed as he leaned in a bit at her ear. It was not an affectionate nip; it was an all out attack, powerful enough to leave deep holes there which oozed blood almost instantly. But the mare could not scream any louder or cry any more profusely if she had tried.

And then, the poor thing, Zay-Oos stumbled carefully to her back end. He laughed—laughed—as he leapt upon her, but I was at least spared that grisly detail. But I could hear everything; her screams, laced with his enthusiastic, less-than-hesitant grunts.

And then I realised, which so much disgust, that the guard who was blocking my view was getting excited himself. His magic fell from my ear and he grumbled his distress, eyeing that poor mare up hungrily through the darkness. His colleague, too, seemed to have similar ideas (if his open, drooling mouth was anything to go by).

There was no doubting why I was here. I watched in terror as the door opened and another mare—just as well used as the one before us—was kicked back into the pen; the two guards leapt upon her immediately, but she did not complain. Instead she merely stood there and took it, looking more like a corpse than a living pony.

My mind was made up at that moment. The Villagers had given their lives for us, in a sense; I couldn't waste that immense sacrifice now. And so, with constant attention to the much distracted stallions, I slowly began to fiddle with the chains. Noise was not such an issue; over the crying and the screams and the grunts, a little clinking would not be heard. I only had to be careful to move slowly enough so as not to arouse suspicion—and that paid off when, just as I finished pulling on the embedded hooks which kept Thorn and I chained to the ground, the boss slipped off of his terrified prey in a quivering mess of pleasure.

There wasn't time to wait. The guards looked as if they would not be distracted much longer, but worse was the issue of Zay-Oos and his magic right now. And so, as quietly as I could, I shuffled slightly closer to Thorn’s side and beckoned for him to get onto my back. He did so reluctantly, trembling and whimpering with tear tracks staining not just his cheeks but the entirety of his little muzzle. But that could be sorted in a minute; for now, we just needed out. And so, after handing the ends of both chains to Thorn to hold out of the way, I clenched my muscles, took a deep breath in and leapt to my hooves.

The pain was immense, a tidal wave of nearly mind-numbing distress. But adrenaline was my fuel for now, and I was out of the door before Zay-Oos had a chance to rise to his evil hooves.

For a moment, everything was quiet. The ponies milling about outside did not notice the chains which were now held in Thorn’s little hooves; our bloodied bodies only helped us to blend in. But then Zay-Oos stepped out of the hut and yelled at his ponies to catch us.

The response was immediate. The ponies turned on us immediately; roars filled the air and the same small, metallic projectiles from before whizzed past us as we fled. Thorn, cowering on my back and gripping on for dear life, was able to deflect a few with his magic to fling them back at their masters. One hit its mark true; one of our attackers was promptly sent crashing to the ground, suddenly without a leg. He didn’t last long after that, but my terror wouldn’t allow me to slow or stop.

I sidestepped some sort of explosive balls as they landed, hurled by the ponies who charged after me. I leapt over debris and the odd skull which lay on the ground, and each jump made my body cry out. I was not used to carrying this much weight. But, heavy or not, this was my forte.

With every few steps I gained a fraction of distance on my pursuers. My injuries kept me back, stopped me from sprinting as I would otherwise have done—but I was still faster, slightly, and agile enough to avoid at least most of the attacks. The ponies behind me fought amongst each other over who would take me out, and those who didn’t bicker had no co-operation. It was the advantage I needed.

It felt like I had been running for hours, but it had probably been nothing more than a few minutes. The rough, burned ground tore my already injured hooves to shreds; my blood splattered against the dusty floor now and then. But I was so nearly there, so close to being free from that horrid place that hadn’t even shown me yet just how cold it could be…

I had lost them, but I couldn’t stop my gallop now. I just ran and ran, each extra metre a smidgen further from the psychotic ponies who were pursuing me and Thorn. I did not falter. I did not even stop to consider the searing stitch which now scorched my side.

Not at first, at least. But then, when my legs at last caved and I fell exhausted and panting to the ground, I found that my path had come to an abrupt end. On either side of us an untamed river fell in cascades, crashing against the rocky, bare banks. My heart palpitated at the roars.

Even worse, though, was the towering statue that stood before me. At its base were scrawled the words, “National Treasure, Wartime Hero”. But it was not such a blessing for me; it had long since crumbled across the pathway, shattering any hopes I may have had of escaping.

A massive mare, sculpted with outside care from marble, stood in a rearing pose, her wings outstretched wide and her mane and tail flying about her muscular frame. Her cutie mark, much like her other more subtle features, had sadly been eroded over the past two centuries by the destructive nucleo-magical rain which had poured from the sky. All that could be made out now were the gentle curves of what I could only presume were a fluffy white cloud. It was the likes of which I had only ever seen in my imagination, and in the village’s much loved collection of pre-war books. Oh, how closely they had been guarded. But, whatever the case, the statue had certainly seen better days; her heavy feathers had fallen around her along with large hunks of her broken off body. The path was impassable. I had run us straight into this trap. And they were coming.

I was quiet for a moment and then shakily rose up into a standing position. I trotted frantically on the spot and ran from one side of the path to the other in a frantic, desperate search for an escape. I scrambled at the side of the boulders but my hooves found no purchase and I fell back down every time that I tried to escape.

Thorn was left cowering on the floor behind me. His horn sparked wildly and his repulsive, immature unicorn magic spilled from him uncontrollably. The specks spasmed as they were thrown about in the wind. But his attempts to escape were in vain and every time that he fought to lift his body he could only get a few metres up, or otherwise merely flickered when he tried to teleport himself away.

Neither of us could get out of this pen. And they were coming.

Pebbles shook slightly on the ground and I whimpered, striking at the marble with desperate hooves. Thorn quickly ran to my side and hid beneath me; his little tail was wrapped tightly around his body, but I could do nothing to help him. I had no weapons, I had no armour, I had no shelter. I had nothing but my beaten up body.

But we had company. They were no longer coming. We had been caught.

“Thorn!” I cried, leaping down from the debris so as to jump in front of him. I then pushed him back with my hoof and flattened my ears in some attempt to appear threatening. I snorted loudly and pawed at the dirt, each action only making me tremble more. But I had to appear strong, for it was all I had right now. “Thorn, keep b-behind me!”

And then a form appeared, bounding towards us at a frantic rate. But it was not the psychotic ponies who I had been expecting…

It was much, much worse.

The beast was massive, its colossal body lumbering through the water as if it was standing in a mere puddle. It was an almost entirely hairless thing, with only a thin covering of spine-like black and white strands across the very top of its hideous body and around its head. The rest of its frame was composed of thick, off-brown leather that was marred with scars and slashes, and almost every inch of it was disfigured by huge, bulbous deformities. Its very skin, in fact, had the appearance of being half melted onto the creature’s skeleton and muscle, as if it had been dipped in a vat of lava and then pulled back out to execute its revenge on the wicked world which it had awoken to.

The thing was easily thrice my height, and greater still should it stand upright on its powerful, heavily muscled rear legs. But even if it had been smaller it would have sent shudders down my spine and would have broken any nerve I may have gathered; those two pure black eyes, and the white variant which had mutated unnaturally in between, were accentuated by the bold, bloody red of the dry skin around them, torn merely by its blinking. They bore deep into my heart and soul and I was unable to stand under their unmissing watch. My legs buckled beneath me and I fell to my knees, and as I did so my gaze came to rest upon the daggers which protruded from the creature’s monstrous paws, each one digging deep into the earth when they struck.

It was close, now. I could see the additional, fused limbs which had mutated from its uncovered underbelly, dragging along the ground and hurling dirt and rocks forwards from between its forelegs. I yelped and cowered, covering my head with my hooves and shielding Thorn with my tail and back. But it was no good; it was over, I realised as the sharp rocks struck my neck with such force that I outright screamed.

But then my cries were drowned out by a momentary roar and a few short, sharp bleeps. And, as I squinted my eyes open and tried to make sense of what was going on through the tears, I watched the earth before me burst into tiny fragments of dust and dirt as the beast was thrown high into the air. The explosion was massive, surely heard for miles around, or at least the way my ears screamed in pain made it seem that way.

The beast was thrown high into the air before it landed with a muffled boom in the small crater which had resulted below. One of its legs had been blown clean off and now lay in a pool of blood to my side, but the beast hardly seemed weakened. Despite the torrents of blood which poured from its mangled fore stump and its dislodged jaw, it only seemed angry and ever more dangerous.

“Get back!” I yelled as it approached, my voice quavering and unsteady and, quite frankly, pathetic. But Thorn was crying and screaming now in his terror, and I couldn’t let him down without trying. And so I stumbled to my hooves and threw myself forwards towards the beast, wailing myself as I spun around on my torn up fore hooves and struck out at its lowered head with as much foolish force and momentum as I could muster.

And then it bellowed in rage and pain and swiped its remaining fore paw at me, its hot blood soaking my pale fur as the blunt edges of its claws connected and sent me rocketing towards the riverbank. Every bone roared when I landed, my body surely broken from such an impact, but I had to fight through the pain. The rush of the tremendous volume of water bit at my rear hooves and I fumbled to climb away from the edge, picturing myself being swept down a river filled with massive, spear-like rocks on all sides. The sting of the splashes alone was brutal, but I had to keep going… I had to fight, for Thorn, because otherwise we would both die out here and nopony would be left to honour the Villagers’ sacrifice.

But the beast… It was not attacking anymore. Or, rather, it was not attacking me at least.

I was destroyed, and with each metre that I inched my body screamed in pain. My entire world was now one big blur, an endless downpour of agony and terror that coursed through every inch of my skin and bone and flesh. It was foolish to keep going, reckless; to simply lay still under the now cloud-filled sky would have been so much safer, so much easier, if only I didn’t have the need to know what was going on.

I watched without being able to tear my gaze away, but the sight was a horrific one. The psychotic pegasus pony was alone, the only one to have caught up so far, and wielded the strange contraption held to his side by a strap with reckless abandon. Each time that his tattered feathers clamped down on it, shining metallic projectiles shot from the tip of the pipe towards the beast, tearing through flesh as if not there. But the monstrosity hardly faltered in its own attacks, despite the pond of blood which now gathered below it. In fact, it did not even begin to hesitate until the pony fell, laughing maniacally on the ground whilst the creature used a razor blade of a claw to slice open his chest to spill his blood and guts across the floor.

And then it finally turned on me with a mouthful of fresh, hot intestines hanging out of its broken maw—and galloped forwards. But I could do nothing to stop its attack except scream as it hooked my tail in its paw and threw me across the ground roughly, sending spasms of pain through my body which made my vision flash black and made my ears hear nothing but the rush of blood through them and the thumping of my heart.

Fate was cruel once again, though. I did not pass out; was not allowed to, in fact. But no killing blow came, no release from this torture. There was only a sudden crash, and a painful shock to my already battered body, and then silence.

I had to move. I had to run, to escape, but all I could manage was to stumble to my hooves, take one step and then promptly fall back down on my muzzle. I took a few deep breaths, almost gasping for air, before I then tried once again. This time, however, it was easier—namely due to the small colt who stood underneath me, helping to elevate me against the beast’s downed corpse.

For a few minutes, we did nothing but stand there quietly. I could not move on my own; I could hardly even keep my eyes open as it was. As the time dragged by, though, my body slowly began to settle down. The pain eased slightly. My ears slowly tuned back in to the odd sounds of the topside world whilst my vision began to recover, to become sharper. I lay down when Thorn began to grumble quietly, though he did not say anything directly to me; after I had done so, I found myself capable of at least keeping my head up, without the searing pain which had come before.

We didn’t have time to get too settled, however, as the sounds of excited hubbub began to reach our flicking, torn ears. We both whimpered and shrunk down, praying that the beast’s corpse would hide us from view—but the psychotic ponies were not entirely stupid. The moment their eyes landed upon their fallen comrade they rushed forwards with shouts and yells whilst they threatened, in no uncertain terms, to tear apart the beast that did this—but when they noticed its already downed body, they fell quiet instead. When they trotted around the beast’s side, however, and noticed Thorn and me—especially me, what with my yellow coat now completely drenched with the creature’s blood—they quietened.

Murmurs passed through the crowd, but they did not make true on their threats. Rather they merely stood in a circle around us, staring at us as if we something poisoned, something deadly—which seemed cruelly ironic coming from the maniacs before us. But then the crowds parted quickly a few minutes later and the boss pony stepped through, his yellow eyes flashing. The fur of his underbelly was crusted over from his pleasures earlier on, I realised sickeningly.

“Ya...” he hissed, his eyes darting between the beast and his comrade and me. “Wha’d ya do, cunt?”

I gulped, my ears falling back so that they almost blended in with the back of my neck. A low chortle went out among the crowds, an evil sort of sound that sent shivers down my aching spine—but also sparked an idea in my mind. A risky, stupid idea that should only even be considered by a mare on the edge of losing it all.

Judging by the way Zay-Oos was licking his lips once more, that seemed to fit this predicament pretty well.

And so I straightened my legs slowly, the pain coursing through my body immediately, and wobbled into a standing position. I then gritted my teeth, careful not to let them squeak in pain, and hissed, “You think I would be standing if this—” I gestured across my body with my injured hoof, “—was my blood?” I huffed and glared at the crowd. That, at least, was not forced. “You ponies are utter imbeciles.”

The crowd stepped back almost simultaneously; the psychotic ponies eyed me warily as they did so. Only Zay-Oos remained where he was, tapping the metal of his armour uncertainly with the tip of his hoof. All the while, Thorn whimpered where he lay, tugging at my fur. It took all of my strength not to reassure him, but I knew what had to be done. I had begun this thing; it was all or nothing now.

“Quit your whining, Welp!” I shouted, loud enough for all the ponies surrounding us to hear. I then lowered my head to his level and gave him a momentary smile, brief enough for him—and him alone—to see. I then pushed him away (with much difficulty) and snapped to the surrounding ponies, my vision now somewhat blurred as the pain increased once again, “So, anyone wanna take me on? My hooves are absolutely aching for something else to hit after pounding that… thing to death!” I paused. “And your worthless pal for getting in my way.”

There was silence. It seemed to be a theme, I noted with dismay as I then collapsed back down to my stomach, unable to stand any longer. The calm before the storm, as some would say. But, amazingly, Zay-Oos did not order his cronies to attack this time. Instead, after a few seconds of frowning and rubbing his chin, he then relaxed and wrapped his magical aura around my body.

Thorn and I were both lifted roughly into the air. He then dumped us each down on one of his ponies’ backs, chortling as he said, “This ‘ere mare’s got more raider in ‘er than she lets on, Pack. Move out; there ain’t gon’ be no killin’ today.” A loud grumble met the boss’ words, but he only laughed more. “As our new comrade ‘ere said, quit yer whinin’ and get them fat asses movin’! We got us an initiation to watch!”

Level Up!
New Perks: Plus One Luck
You've been far from lucky in your experiences so far, but you've not broken any bones at least! Luck is permanently upgraded to level two.

Author's Note

Many thanks to Dagger of Winter, Word Worthy, kalash93 and AShadowOfCygnus for prereading and editing this chapter! Also thanks to ProjectRabbid and Madame Hellspawn for general comments.